


A Bad Case of the Dates

by pikasafire



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikasafire/pseuds/pikasafire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as first dates go, Sean's sure this is the worst one ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bad Case of the Dates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barefootstarz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootstarz/gifts).



> Happy Valentines to barefootstarz. I can't believe I just wrote something this sappy. It's all her fault. 
> 
> Set pre-buyout for Danny.

It's taken them months to get to this point. _'Years'_ if you ask some of the other guys. But Sean thinks that maybe, maybe now they're actually here. They've made it

They're dating. He is _dating Brayden Schenn_

Or they will be, if he can find his fucking tie. 

He picked some restaurant from downtown, out of the way enough that they shouldn't be bothered. Danny smiled at him indulgently when Sean asked for a recommendation. "No one bothered me and Sylvie there." He pauses, "Sean, you've had the Talk, right?"

"God, yes." Sean assures him, mortified at the idea that Danny might try to give him the sex talk, what the fuck, "it's all good, I - please don't."

Danny looks relieved. "Oh good. Have fun." Then more sternly, the way he talks to Carson when he goes out with friends, "Be safe."

And now Sean's fifteen minutes late and he has no tie and only one black shoe and why the fuck didn't he plan this more carefully?

He shoves his feet into his brown shoes instead and they don't match but he has no time to _care_ , grabbing a blue striped from his closet and he practically strangles himself trying to tie it. Twenty minutes late to pick Brayden up. He grabs his keys and the flowers and the chocolates and flies out of the door, no time for anything but a shouted, "Home late!" to Danny on his way out.

"Use condoms!" Danny shouts after him.

Jesus.

*

"You're late." Brayden says as he opens the door and Sean thrusts the flowers and chocolates at him, his face beet red. 

"Sorrytheseareforyou." He says. It's a garbled mess, and his palms are sweating and Brayden just stares at him like he's completely stupid and oh god, what if he's changed his mind? Brayden's making no attempt to take them from him and so Sean presses them against Brayden's chest a little desperately, "Please just take them."

Brayden takes them slowly. Both are a little crushed, sweaty from Sean's hands and he looks at them, then back at Sean. "You... brought me flowers." He turns the box over. "And chocolates?"

"You don't like them?" Because what the fuck is he supposed to say when Brayden's looking at him like Sean just gave him a goat instead of a romantic gesture. 

"That's... a little gay." Brayden says, but he steps back, "Uh, come in. Thanks, I guess."

He's fucked up. He hasn't even made it out of Brayden's apartment and he's fucked up. "Sorry." 

Brayden just gives him a weird look. "I just need to grab my shoes and we can go." He gestures for Sean to follow him through the house, putting the gifts on the kitchen table on his way through. 

Claude's on the couch, and he twists, spying the flowers. Fucking open plan living. "Coots, did you bring Schenner _flowers_?" The shit eating grin on Claude's face bodes well for no one, "Aww, that's so _cute_." He pulls out his phone, snapping a picture of them, "Hey, Schenner. You have to put out for them. Look at the effort he's gone to." Sean knows that within seconds, every other guy on the team is going to know that he bought Brayden flowers and oh god, he's an idiot.

Brayden just flips him off, but Sean's face feels like it's on fire, he hasn't felt this paralysed since he was a rookie, entering an NHL rink for the first time, next to Claude Giroux and Jaromir fucking Jagr. "Sorry," he says, as Brayden shuts the door. "I-sorry. I didn’t think."

"Stop apologising." Brayden says, looking around his trashed bedroom. "Help me find my shoes." 

There's not much hope of finding anything in this room. Brayden gets on his hands and knees, waving an arm under the bed, and Sean would be concerned that something under there would eat him (god knows when the last time Brayden cleaned under there was - Sean's willing to bet 'never'), except he's distracted by Brayden's ass. He knows Brayden has a nice ass, but here, behind a closed door, now they're officially dating, Sean's _allowed_ to look. He's probably even allowed to _touch_ and the thought catches him by surprise, just standing in the centre of Brayden's disgusting room, staring at his ass.

"Hey, you gonna help or just stare?" Brayden asks. He's grinning though, that kind of smile that means he's mostly just amused and that Sean's in for a mocking. Sean's expecting for Brayden to throw something at him, to kick him; he's not expecting Brayden to pull himself to his feet and step towards him, looking determined.

Sean blinks. "Um-" He says, more of a croak than anything else. 

"Jesus." Brayden grabs Sean's hands from where they're waving awkwardly in the air and moves in close so their chests are touching, tilting his head upwards. He's shorter than Sean, tilting his head up to brush a kiss to the underside of his jaw and Sean swallows, unsure of what he's supposed to do, even as Brayden pulls at Sean's hands, placing them on his ass. "You can touch." Brayden says, wrapping his arms around Sean's neck, "Go on." It's not like Sean's some _blushing virgin_ , but it's new territory, he's never dated a guy before, and he's sure as hell never dated a hockey player. Or a _teammate_ and he's not sure if he's going to get his ass kicked if he squeezes, but Brayden's standing there pressing up on to tip toes to press a kiss to the corner of Sean's mouth. "Alright?"

Better than alright, but Sean's nervous and worried and he's fucking this up. "Dinner." He says, "We have reservations-"

Brayden pouts and it look ridiculous and appealing and Sean wants to kiss him properly. They haven't really done that yet, just little kisses and Sean wants to do this _right_. "You'd rather go to dinner than stay in here?" Brayden wheedles, he presses in close again, "I'd put out."

And that's a thought that Sean doesn't need when he's about to go out in public. "Brayden-" It's a plea for something, Sean's not sure what - to stop, to continue - he wants and he's not sure what to do about it. This isn't how it's supposed to go. 

Brayden sighs, looking put out, but pulls away. "Come on, then. Dinner." He grabs the shoes he's extracted from under the bed, and pulls them on. "We're late."

Sean's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed.

It only takes a few minutes for Brayden to cram his feet into shoes that don’t really match, and tows Sean out of the room by his hand, making a beeline for the door, “We’re off,” He calls out, as he grabs his keys and wallet.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Claude shouts after them.

“That’s not much!” Brayden shouts back, shutting the door behind them before they can hear Claude’s reply. Sean grins over at him, brave enough to take his hand again; it’s dark out and there’s no one around, leading him over to the car.

So, it hasn’t started well. It can only get better, right? 

*

“I’m sorry.” The waiter looks it too. “We have a half hour policy on our reservations.” He holds out his hands apologetically, “It’s in our statement of service,” He offers, like it’ll make the fact they gave away his reservations any better. Sean wants to argue the point, pull him aside and stress how fucking _important_ this is, but it’s not like he can tell him he’s on a date with Brayden, it’s not like he can do much of anything but smile the smile usually reserved for the press, and nod.

“We shouldn’t have been late.” Sean says, forcing the words from his throat, “We’ll just have to find somewhere else. Thank you for your time.” Shit. He turns to Brayden, “Sorry,” He murmurs, giving an explanation even though he was there the whole time. “They gave away out reservation.” 

“Let’s just walk.” Brayden shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “There’ll be somewhere open.”

Sean’s pretty sure that in terms of worst dates ever, this is creeping into the top ten but they head off down the road. There’s got to be something around here that won’t kill them. 

There’s a diner around the block that’s open and Brayden grins, “High school style.” He teases, when Sean points it out and Sean blushes. It was close, that’s all, and it’s fucking cold out and he opens his mouth to object, to tell him they’ll find somewhere else, but Brayden’s already making a beeline for the door. Alright. Guess they’re eating here. 

They manage to be seated. It’s not stupidly busy, but it’s a Saturday night in the city; it’s hardly quiet either and there’s a bunch of teenagers sitting in a booth across from them that are staring in that way that Sean’s started to recognise.

“Ohmygod,” One of the guys says, creeping over to their table. “You’re Sean Couturier.” 

Sean doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to people telling him who he is. “Uh. Yeah.” He says, gives the kid a smile and holds out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.” 

The kid turns to Brayden, eyes wide. “And you’re Brayden Schenn.” 

Brayden just grins, “Last time I checked, I still was.” Brayden’s always so much better at this than Sean is, “Want me to sign something for you?” The kid pulls out a Flyer’s hat from his bag, hands it over to Brayden. Like it’s implicit permission, the other teenagers come over, looking shy as they say hello, chatting as Sean and Brayden sign a bunch of stuff, including something that Sean thinks may have actually been a school permission slip. He tries not to think about it. And it’s not like he resents this or anything; he understands his role, but this is not what he was thinking when he asked Brayden out. It’s too crowded here, too risky, and all Sean wants to do is be able to hold Brayden’s hand.

They make idle chatter, Brayden talking about Luke’s latest relationship crisis, Sean filling Brayden in on Cameron’s latest career plans to be a veterinarian and they order shitty diner food; soup and sandwiches, as always. It’s nice. It’s like it usually is, after a game when they go out for dinner but there’s that paralysing thought in the back of Sean’s head. What if Brayden forgets this is supposed to be a date? What if this is Brayden’s subtle way of telling Sean he doesn’t want to date him after all. 

Fuck, he needs to be less paranoid. 

Their food arrives and Sean doesn't know what happens, he's leaning over to pull a napkin out of those stupid fucking things that are in the centre of the table and his hand _slips_ and then Brayden's leaping out of his seat and there's _fucking soup everywhere_. Sean freezes, then leaps up, "Holy shit," he says, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" He reaches out with his napkin and he's not sure if he should be helping, what the fuck is the protocol for something like spilling soup all over his date’s crotch? If someone takes a photo of Sean rubbing a napkin over Brayden's pants, it'll end up in Deadspin for _sure_ and so he pulls out a handful of napkins from the centre, thrusts them in Brayden's direction. "Fuck. Here." He looks around frantically, willing their waiter to come back. “I’ll-” He doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

Brayden tries to smile, "At least it's not that hot," He says through gritted teeth. There's a waiter who hurries over, damp cloth in hand and Brayden takes it, brushes it uselessly over his pants. “I’m not sure how much help this is.” 

"Jesus, Brayden," Sean feels compelled to say, “I’m sorry.” He turns to the waiter, “Um, can we maybe get our food to go? I think my friend here is going to need to go home and change.” He gives him his most charming smile even as he wants to die on the inside. This date is an absolute disaster.

*

“You know.” Brayden says, as they walk back to the car, Sean carrying the bag of food, “If you wanted to get me out of my pants, you could have just asked.”

"Sorry." Sean says, and he feels like he's saying this an awful lot, even as they climb into the car, Brayden moving awkwardly with his wet trousers.

Brayden sighs as he settles into the front seat, "Fucking hell, Coots. If you apologise one more time, I'm going to make you suck my cock and you can apologise around that."

Sean stares at him. "It's, I-" He swallows. "I'd do that." He says.

"Jesus." Brayden says, "I'm not going to make you blow me just because you spilt soup on my pants. I knew you were a klutz when I said yes."

"No-" Sean can't believe he's saying this out loud. "I would. I want to."

Brayden grins at him, leans over to press a kiss to his mouth, “Aw. That’s so romantic.” He sits back in his seat with a lewd grin, “C’mon, I want to get out of these pants.” 

*  
Claude’s out when they get home, probably out with Danny and Sean has the horrible feeling that they’re probably sitting together somewhere, talking about him and Brayden. Sean shakes the feeling off, dropping their food in the kitchen and heading towards where Brayden’s disappeared into his bedroom. He pauses a little in the entrance, not sure whether he’s supposed to go in, and it’s stupid; Sean’s seen Brayden naked hundreds of times, but this is different and he’s not sure if he’s welcome. 

“Come in.” Brayden says, distracted as he searches for some sweatpants. “I’m just going to take a quick shower.” He grins over at him, gestures for Sean to lie on the bed. “I’ll be ten minutes.”

Sean lays on the bed, waiting for Brayden to finish, staring at the ceiling. He can’t help recounting every last stupid thing that went wrong. If Brayden tells Sean that he’s made a mistake, Sean’s not sure if he’ll be surprised. 

The bed dips as Brayden crawls onto the bed next to him a little while later, his skin flushed from the warmth of the shower, the ends of his hair still damp. "I'm pretty sure that was the worst date ever." Sean sighs, barely biting back the apology that forms on his lips. “It was supposed to be romantic.” 

Brayden laughs, "Is that what that was supposed to be?" He shoves him, rougher than he needs to be, "Fucking hell, Sean." He leans over him, serious expression on his face. "You know you don't have to impress me, right?"

He's not entirely sure what he's supposed to say to that. "Yes?"

"Jesus." Brayden rolls his eyes, rolls over, so he's straddling Sean's hips, his hands firm on Sean's shoulders. "Listen to me to stupid fucking idiot. I know you're shit at this, I know you can't hold your alcohol, I know you're fucking weird about your food touching and you won't let anyone touch your hair."

"Brayden-"

"Shut up, I'm not done. I _know_ this shit, man. I went on a date with you because I wanted to." He slaps his his hand over Sean's mouth, "Seriously. You don't have to do... whatever the fuck it is you're doing. You don’t have to _impress_ me. I’m a sure thing."

Sean licks Brayden’s hand. Perhaps not the most mature thing to do, but Brayden’s half suffocating him. “I know that.” He says, muffled until Brayden takes his hand away. “I know that.” He repeats, even though he didn’t. Not really. “I just. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Brayden rolls his eyes at him, leans over him so they’re practically nose to nose. “The only way you’re going to fuck it up,” Brayden says, staring him down, “Is if you keep trying to give me flowers and be weird. Just. Be _you_ , alright?” 

What else can he say. “Alright.” 

“Good.” Brayden looks satisfied. “Are you done being weird now?” 

Sean smiles, pushes his hands up the back of Brayden’s shirt, like he’s wanted to since Brayden first said ‘yes.’ “Yeah.”

“Good.” Brayden grins at him, and kisses him.

*

END


End file.
